


coping failsafe

by iyzze



Category: Murder Most Unladylike Series - Robin Stevens
Genre: Autism, Autistic Daisy Wells, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Very daisy centric, absolute cop out of an end but hey at least it's written, entirely unrelated but how important do you think tags are for mmu fics - there's only so many works, i make the canon here, i think lol, mmm 2am posting, narrative structure WHO, no planning & no proofreading lmao, people being dicks in response to someone having a :( time, surely you don't need to be super specific? (she says...)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:00:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27393877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iyzze/pseuds/iyzze
Summary: It's a bad day, but sometimes there are people who know how to make it better, just by being there. :)
Relationships: Daisy Wells & Hazel Wong
Kudos: 9





	coping failsafe

**Author's Note:**

> This one is dedicated to a v special history teacher and also the best (worst) careers advisor i’ve ever met (love you Dave and Pauline xxx)
> 
> Just a little drabble bc i’m feeling Things rn and projection is an art form and i’m basically van Gogh
> 
> lmk if you think anything's super screwed up

It was always going to be a bad day. Hazel could tell from the moment she woke up - what she couldn’t tell, however, was the extent of misery that was set to follow. It wasn’t a totally remarkable day, by any means - but often those can be the worst. Things that you might not ever have noticed, driving somebody else wild until they can’t contain it. And that’s exactly what had happened.

The first Fourth Former dormitory had been woken up 20 minutes later than usual - which in turn had put Daisy at fifteen minutes behind on her own schedule. Of course, the Deepdean timetable couldn’t be expected to change to the whims of any of the several hundred girls, so rather they had missed breakfast (Tuesday’s breakfast, plain toast with just barely enough butter, Daisy’s favourite of the standard fare) and been ushered to morning prep almost before they had gotten themselves dressed.

The morning was dull and grey, rather like how the world felt dull and grey. There simply was not enough intellectual input for Daisy to focus on - and so she had found herself wound up as she instead noticed every little thing wrong with the world.

For one thing, Lavinia’s tie was just a little bit to the left, hung crookedly, and Beanie’s hair was disastrously knotted (after all, she hadn’t had the time to brush it out appropriately). Daisy herself had been so rushed through her routine that she hadn’t been able to fold her pajamas up suitably to tuck underneath her pillow - and her stomach was coiled in and around itself at the thought of the wrinkles in the fabric that she would have to contend with that evening. But still, she had thought to herself, a day may be bad - but it _simply can’t_ be disastrous, not when you’re a Wells.

Then the mistresses of the school had decided to conduct a uniform inspection outside during bunbreak. And it was wet, and it was _cold_ and Daisy had forgotten her coat (this is exactly why she had a specific routine, this is exactly why it had such an order - she wouldn’t ever forget things if only she had the time to remember them!). Worse still than all of this - it was _loud_ , and Daisy just couldn’t cope with it.

\--

So there they were, dozens upon dozens of rows of girls stood in the dismal drizzle of a Deepdean day - and there was Daisy, stood just a little bit out of her dormitory’s line, humming absently as she picked at her fingers and rocked on her heels. It wasn’t particularly ladylike, no, but often there are things more important in the long term than appearing _ladylike_ \- things such as ensuring you continue to be considered a _lady_.

As the minutes passed and dulled into one another, the girls themselves grew bored of the even formation they were stood in. The volume rose, and the rain began to pelt slightly. Daisy shivered, humming mournfully in remembrance of her coat, so close yet so far. So entranced was she in her humming that she scarcely noticed two of the upper form teachers walking towards her, and she definitely didn’t notice them speak to her - not until it was just slightly too late. It took Lavinia giving her a shove in the elbow to realise that anyone had even approached - and the sudden shock of contact had almost pushed Daisy to tears right then and there.

As it was, there was an irate teacher stood in front of her, face stern and unkind, tone sharp and heavy. It made Daisy look physically ill the more she paid attention, especially as it became ever more apparent that she had missed large swathes of an apparent attempt at communication - it wasn’t even as though it mattered that Daisy hadn’t heard what was being said. She couldn’t possibly bring herself to speak, so consumed was she by internal stress and external input.

A throat cleared, and Daisy found herself fully tugged into the real world. 

“Ms Wells, do you want to go inside with Ms Wong, or do you want to stay outside with me? Ms Wells? Please answer.”

Daisy didn’t say anything, she stayed rocking on her heels, humming miserably with her hands covering her ears.

“Really,” the teacher continued, turning her head as though speaking to an audience. “Does she realise how immensely rude she’s being?”

A second teacher chimed in - “Really, Ms Wells, you must answer. Will you go inside, or stay out here?”

Daisy stopped humming for a moment, tearful and hesitant - for a moment it almost looked like she would calm down. That was until a low throaty sound came from deep within her. Somewhere between a grunt and a growl, it sent her spiralling again, rocking faster than ever, so far forwards and backwards, forwards and backwards it almost looked as though she would fall over at any moment.

“We’re doing this again are we? We’ll have to call for a doctor at this rate. Ms Wells, I had thought we were past this. Now really, I don’t suppose your mother would like to hear about this. Now answer me - will you go inside, or not?”

The humming stopped once more, for one glorious second it was almost like she was composing herself - but she wasn’t. She had been asked one wordy question too many, and a verbal response was so clearly past her limits it was a wonder she hadn’t done this any sooner - she screamed. Howled, even. Sharp and shrill and painful above all else. An animalistic scream, like a wounded prey before its final moments. Blood-curdling and unladylike in all of its rawness.

“Ms Wells - inside? Or out?” Voice increasingly angry, a situation so far out of anyone’s control it was hardly worth trying at all. Daisy sobbed, chest heaving as she struggled to breathe, throat aching and raw as she gasped for air.

And then the whispers started. The faceless figures surrounding the scene started talking among themselves.

“She’s crazy,” said one.

“Hysterical,” said another.

“My father says people like her should be locked up,” said a third.

Hazel had had quite enough of all this.

“If you’ll excuse us, Daisy and I will be going inside now. Alone. Together.”

She tugged gently at the sleeve of Daisy’s blouse and guided her away from the crowds. That wasn’t to say that Hazel knew where they were going. They couldn’t go back to House, especially not so soon, but the schoolrooms were sure to be locked at such a time. Anyway, it wasn’t like they could run the risk of bumping into any more teachers - they just had to hope that the air would clear and Kitty or Beanie would come and find them again. With that in mind, Hazel changed course, heading towards the old chapel on the edge of the site.

\--

It was quiet there, a stillness that felt easy and light. None of the tense stagnancy of hushed whispers in a classroom, and certainly none of the copious _noise_ of cohabiting with hundreds of other girls. The old chapel was nice, and Daisy liked it, Hazel thought.

They sat there for a while, Daisy still humming softly to herself, throat red-raw and head reeling - but Hazel didn’t say a thing. There was no need to, there was nothing to say. They understood each other like that - the intensity of reading a mystery novel and solving it alongside an ace detective, or the easy friendship borne from hours spent sat in peace with one another. So there they sat, two friends in the calm complacency of understanding and empathy, distracted from the apparent disaster the day had been, calming down despite the furious drama that seemed to pursue them relentlessly. Indeed, it had been a very bad day, yes - but never a catastrophe. Not when you’re Daisy Wells (especially if you have a Hazel Wong).

**Author's Note:**

> cheers


End file.
